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Yet that's all in the past.
Dead and buried, because at this point, no one else knows.
Everyone who did died that night in the fire, as did Lucero not too long ago at Raf's hands.
"Noelle," Raf calls my name, wrenching the blanket down my body and assessing me with his shrewd eyes.
"What?" I squeak in surprise.
"How's the pain? On a scale from one to ten?"
I blink, biting my lip as I look at him in confusion.
"Don't lie to me, pretty girl," he threatens.
"I don't know. A five…ish?" I give him a sheepish smile.
It's not as bad as it's been in the past and I can definitely handle it.
Shaking his head at me, he drops a tray with various items on the nightstand, before giving me his full attention.
He does a full scan of my body, from my bare legs and thighs, to the nightgown riding up my hips. For some reason, I feel the urge to cover myself even though he's seen, touched and kissed every inch of my body already.
"Here," he leans into me, his hands on the hem of my gown as he raises it further up, bunching it right under my breasts. Before I can question what he's doing, he places warm patches on my lower belly, wrapping them around my midriff so they are kept in place.
"And this too," he adds as he takes some medicine from the tray, handing me a glass of water and urging me to swallow them.
"Pain meds?" I ask as I wipe my mouth.
He nods, silently arranging me in bed so I'm sitting comfortably against a mountain of pillows.
"Wait a moment," he mumbles, leaving the room for a few seconds before returning with a new tray, this time one filled entirely with food—good, yummy food.
"Raf," my eyes widen in shock as he places it on my lap.
There are chocolate pancakes, raspberry yoghurt, cereal and an assortment of juices.
"Did you make the pancakes?"
He nods eagerly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and looking at me expectantly.
Oh. Shit. He's waiting for me to try them.
Taking a knife and a fork, I dig in, my stomach already grumbling at the sight of all these delicacies.
"Well? How is it?" he asks as I take the first bite.
The flavor immediately bursts on my tongue, and as I'm chewing I give him two big thumbs up.
He sighs in relief.
"Good. That's good," he mutters, more to himself.
"You're really outdoing yourself here," I praise as I continue to eat.
"I'm just," he takes a deep breath. "I hate that this is happening to you. That you're suffering so much a few days a month and…" he trails off, a flash of hurt crossing himself.
"And what?" I urge quietly, putting the tray aside when I'm done.
